The Other Half of the Prophecy
by jembem
Summary: Harry Potter may be the Boy Who Lived, but what about Neville Longbottom? Follow Neville through his life as he becomes a bigger hero than he could ever imagine. Please R&R!


Chapter One

The Visit

"Neville! Hurry, boy!" a stern looking woman called from the foot of the stairs. A chubby three year old tottered to the top of the landing with his robes on backwards. Gran sighed and urged him to come down. When he had managed to scoot down half the steps, she asked, "Do you have the pictures?" His large brown eyes widened, and he quickly turned and began to make his way back up the stairs. "You'd think he was the insane one," Augusta muttered crossly to herself. She had very high expectations for her grandson, and he was not living up to them so far.

Clutching a few framed photos in his pudgy hands, Neville began to precariously make his way down the steps. He only made is down a few before tripping and tumbling down the rest of the flight. "Oh, Neville!" cried Augusta picking up the battered little boy.

Neville looked sadly down at the shattered picture frames. "I broked dem," he sighed, trying not to cry. He had spent hours decorating them himself for his parents.

Realizing Neville wasn't injured, she unceremoniously set him down and pulled out her wand. "Gran can fix that, Neville. Magic, remember? _Reparo._" The broken bits of the frames zoomed back together looking as good as new.

"Magic," Neville whispered quietly to himself as he scooped up his gift for his parents.

While he was distracted, Augusta discreetly flicked her wand to turn Neville's robes the right way around. Unfortunately, his foot got tangled in them. As he stood up to take a step, he pitched forward, once again dropping the pictures.

"Oops," he mumbled as Gran rolled her eyes at her clumsy grandson.

"Hold tight to me, Neville," Gran commanded once they got the pictures all sorted out. "Don't want you getting out at the wrong grate again."

Neville shook his head, remembering the scary house he ended up in last time he tried to Floo somewhere. He held tight to Gran's leg with one arm and his pictures with the other.

"Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," Gran called, throwing the powder down into the green flames.

A spinning sensation overtook Neville, and he clenched his teeth and shut his eyes tightly in an attempt to ward off the nausea. He would have had his fingers in his ears, but he needed to keep a tight hold on his pictures. Finally, the spinning stopped. Neville staggered out of the fireplace in the hospital atrium. Due to being dizzy, he walked crookedly after Gran. Her brisk pace was hard to keep up with, so Neville risked jogging to not get left behind.

When they finally reached the closed ward, Gran turned sharply to look at Neville. "Do not be loud. Do not disrupt the other patients." Her tone softened a little, "Don't be upset if your parents don't respond."

Neville nodded like a bobble head, eager to see his Mum and Dad. He missed them very much. Clutching the pictures tightly to his chest, he began to bounce eagerly. "Can we go, Gran?" he begged.

Augusta looked at her excited grandson and sighed internally. He would just be disappointed again. "Let's go, son," she said as she opened the door.

"Mummy! Daddy!" Neville cheered as he rushed in, running right past the three beds close to the door to get to the two at the back of the room where his parents lay. He reached them, panting quietly with a grin ear to ear on his chubby face. "Missed you!" he cried, flinging himself at his mother to give her a very one sided hug. He hopped over to the other bed to do the same to his father. "Got something for you," he said proudly, standing in between his parents' beds. After waiting a minute for them to respond, he pulled out the frames. "Ta da! One fo you…" he handed one to his mother, "… one fo you…" he handed another to his father, "… and one to share!" he carefully set the third frame on the table between their beds.

The picture Frank Longbottom held in his hands was of him reading the Daily Prophet with a chunky baby balanced on his chest. On the cover of the Daily Prophet was a small, black haired baby. It was titled, "The Boy Who Lived." Frank, however, was looking at the comics with his gurgling baby boy. Both were grinning and laughing. Around the edge of the frame, Neville drew his interpretations of lions because he knew how much his daddy loved Gryffindor.

Alice was looking curiously at her photo. In hers, a younger Neville was taking his first tottering steps towards his mother, whom he resembled greatly. When he fell flat on his face with a look of utter confusion, Alice scooped him up and hugged him tight, laughing. On this frame, Neville glued various sparkles and drew flowers. His mommy loved pretty things.

The third photo was of the three Longbottoms standing in front of their Christmas tree. Neville was wearing an elf hat and pointed shoes, Frank was sporting a Santa hat, and Alice had a spiky bow stuck on top of her head. All three of them were grinning and laughing merrily, enjoying their holiday. Little did they know it would be one of their last happy moments together. Neville had drawn many little hearts and stars around this frame. It had taken him ages to complete.

"You like dem?" he asked cheerfully, looking from one parent to the other. When they still failed to respond, his grin slid off his face, and his eyebrows pushed together in confusion. "Daddy?"

Frank was turning his photograph over and over running his fingers over the smooth glass. He didn't move at all when his son spoke.

Neville's eyebrows scrunched further together. "Mummy?"

Alice looked up and grinned absentmindedly before looking back down and poking each individual sequin with her finger.

Neville looked at Gran, horrified. "Why dey don't talk?" he whispered in shock, his wide eyes showing how sad he truly was.

Augusta put her hand on her grandson's shoulder in a comforting manner. "I think it's time to go," she said softly. "Give Mummy and Daddy goodbye hugs."

Neville walked slowly towards his parents. They were both tugging at the third picture like babies fighting over a toy. Neville stared in shock as it fell to the floor and shattered. His eyes filled with tears and his little hands balled into fists. It didn't matter that Gran could repair the damage instantly. They had broken his gift without batting an eyelash.

"Say goodbye, Neville," Gran said sternly, seeing how her grandson was acting. He gave his parents hasty hugs and stormed out of the room.

After saying goodbye to her son and daughter in law, Augusta swept out of the room to find her grandson curled up in a corner crying. "Oh, Neville," she said softly, easily scooping him up in her arms. He wrapped his arms and legs around her and continued to sob as they made their way back to the fireplaces.

When they arrived back at their home, Neville pushed away from Gran and ran upstairs to his room. Wary of what he might do, she followed him. He sat on top of his bed, looking through his photo albums that held pictures from happier times. "Why dey not like dat?" he sniffled, looking at Gran through red eyes. "Why dey no talk? Why dey no say tank you?"

Augusta realized, as much as she was dreading it, that this was the time to tell him the truth. The hurt and frustration in his eyes made it clear that he wanted an answer. Sitting down next to him, Gran pulled the furious boy into her lap and began gently combing through his hair with her fingers. "You remember what Mummy and Daddy did before they were in the hospital?"

Neville nodded. "Dey were Aurors. Dey fight da bad guys."

"That's right. And the very meanest guy of all was named Voldemort." Neville didn't even flinch when he heard the name. He didn't know all the connotations that were associated with it. "Another little boy who is just your age made him go away. But some of Voldemort's friends wanted him to come back. They thought Mummy and Daddy knew where Voldemort was, so they did very mean things to them… Mummy and Daddy aren't the same anymore. They can't do things like talk and remember like you and I can. We don't know if they can get better, but they doctors will take good care of them."

Neville stared up at Gran in shock, tears leaking out of his eyes. How could anyone be so cruel to a little boy's parents? Why would they even be friends with this evil Voldemort guy? Then, an even more horrible thought dawned on him. "Do… Do Mummy and Daddy know me?" he whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Of course they do, Neville, don't be ridiculous. You're their only son, their pride and joy! You saw the smile your Mummy gave you when she looked at her picture. That was how she said thank you."

Neville looked at Gran to make sure she wasn't lying, but her eyes were truthful. "Otay," he mumbled. For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Then Neville burst out, "I hate dat Boldmort! He's a bully! Why he gotta make udder people sad? I'm happy he's gone! An his friends bedder not come here 'gain or I'll… I'll…" He seemed to be struggling with words, trying to find a punishment good enough for Death Eaters. When he couldn't think of a good comeback, he looked up at Gran seriously. "Dey won't hurt you, Gran. I won't let dem."

Gran tucked Neville in. As she left the room and turned out the light, she whispered, "Sleep tight, my little Gryffindor. Maybe you're more like your father than I thought."

**A/N: Hey there! Thanks for reading! I think Neville is an adorable character, and he had a hard life too, so I thought it might be fun to write things from his perspective. If you could leave a review letting me know whether or not I should continue this story, that would be great! I accept anonymous reviews and will respond to all that I can, so don't be shy! I'd love to hear the good and the bad.**


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